


The Note

by hilliardmackenzie



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fridget
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 18:00:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4109977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilliardmackenzie/pseuds/hilliardmackenzie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place after S3E10. I don't own these characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Note

Post 3x10.

What a day… Franky Doyle had gone from having a gut full of heroin to breaking down in front of the parole board, to almost dying from the shit she drank in order to toss said heroin (which was nearly worth it because her agony had compelled Bridget Westfall to touch her arm and back as Franky stumbled from the room), to a brief stint in medical before heading back to her unit only to be intercepted by the fiery and very strong lover of the woman she killed, a confrontation that could have been life – or freedom-ending but instead produced some kind of catharsis for them both, then to Liz for healing and love that only a mother could give her and now cozied up with her unit-mates for what might be one of the last nights of her incarceration. It was so much, so meaningful, such a day of realization and clarity for Franky that her newfound freedom – in her heart and soul – continued to leak in tears from her eyes.

After some time she yawned, exhaustion from the events of the day washing over her like a wave. Reluctantly she stood to stretch.

“Ya turnin’ in?” Booma asked.

“Yeah,” Franky smiled, chucking her lightly on the pink robe-clad arm. “See ya in the morning.”

“Night,” Doreen smiled. Franky returned her smile before turning her face to Bea. There was still much to be said to the redhead but she had time. No telling how much, actually, since her parole hearing had been suspended. For the first time in… forever, Franky felt hope outweigh anger, fear and nearly anything else. 

She wished she had been granted a moment with Bridget this day – to thank her, to just gaze at her. The words the blonde had said in her hearing rattled around in Franky’s brain, searing her from the inside out with the love and adoration behind them. 

When she had asked Bridget if she was in love with her, Bridget had said no, but there was no energy behind the denial and Franky wondered whether or not it was true. For her own part, she had played it cool – hurt as she had been by what she saw as Bridget’s betrayal and abandonment. Franky had done what she always did –donned her armor and come out swinging. She regretted that choice now and hoped beyond all else that she had a chance to make that right with the woman who had so expertly opened her to her own pain and helped her begin to heal, to mend the parts of herself that were broken and to become whole again. Franky Doyle loved Bridget Westfall – that was a fact.

As she closed her cell door behind her, something caught her eye. A folded up slip of paper lay on her pillow. Curiosity drove her the few steps toward the head of her bed and she sank to sit on the mostly hard surface. 

She unfolded it. 

She recognized the handwriting instantly and her face opened into a beam.

You did it! So proud of you. And worried. Take good care and call me if you’d like. See you soon. B.

Below the words was a phone number. Franky clutched the note to her heart before she realized what she was doing, then rolled her eyes at her own decidedly girly response. Her eyes fell on the words again. And again.

See you soon. Franky drifted off to sleep with the note, her first note from Bridget, nestled squarely in her palm.

The next day at the earliest break Franky was first in line to use the phones.

She walked to the one on the far end, picked up the receiver and dialed.

It rang twice, Franky’s excitement speeding up her heart rate.

Then, “Hello?”

“Hiya, Bridget,” Franky said, unable and unwilling to hide the pure delight on her face. 

She heard the other woman exhale, “Hi, Franky. You’re alright?”

“I’m so much more than alright,” Franky smiled. “I didn’t mean to worry you yesterday. It’s a long story but I’ll soon have time to tell it, I think.”

“Then you’ve not heard?” Bridget replied. Briefly Franky’s heart sank.

“Heard what?”

“It’s good news, darling,” Bridget reassured and Franky found herself dwelling on the last word. “They were ready to rule. You’ve been paroled. You’ll be out in the next few days.”

Franky was surprised to feel tears welling in her eyes. “Thank you,” she croaked, emotion thick in her throat. “I wouldn’t… this wouldn’t have happened without you, ya know?”

“You’ve always had this in you, Franky,” Bridget said, soft sweetness infusing her voice. “You’ve earned this. You deserve it.” The soon to be ex-inmate wiped tears from her cheeks, sniffling once. After a moment, she heard her favorite familiar voice again. 

“So, you want a ride?”


End file.
